Not Again ?
by Halcris
Summary: Something from Doyle's past comes back to cause trouble.


**"Not Again ?"**

Bodie and Doyle met, as they so often did, in the yard at C.I.5 Headquarters, as they parked their cars. Both were feeling good, as they were just back refreshed after a valued day off. They hadn't spent it together. Each had taken the opportunity to enjoy a favoured form of relaxation.

Bodie had taken a boat on the river. He hadn't been able to find a girl to go with at such short notice, so he had explored further than he usually went, and had discovered a rather nice little riverside pub and tearooms that he hadn't visited before. He checked it out, and would certainly visit it again, as the facilities were good and the staff friendly.

Doyle has spent the day in the garage under his flat, working on restoring a vintage motor-bike. Two spare parts he had ordered had arrived during the previous week, and he had fitted them. To his great pleasure, the work had gone easily and smoothly, and he was making real progress with the project.

"I wonder what's new ?," said Bodie, as they climbed the stairs together. "Heard any rumours ?."

"No," replied Doyle, shaking his curly head, "but no doubt the boss will let us know if anything came in yesterday."

And he was right, for that was exactly what Cowley did. As soon as the pair came to stand in front of his desk, he was straight down to business.

"I've been getting reports of a new drugs supplier on the scene," he began. "Have either of you heard anything ?."

"No," replied Bodie at once, "but I'll ask around."

"It wouldn't be the Mortinelli's starting up their old business again, would it ?," asked Doyle.

"That did occur to me," said his boss, "but we've kept an eye on Eduardo and his son Dino ever since they arrived in this country and it seems as if they are putting all their energy into running their new club 'Corelli's'."

"Is it all right ?," queried Doyle.

"As far as we can tell, yes," said Cowley. "It's pretty exclusive."

"And expensive," interrupted Bodie, getting a glare for his pains.

"That too," agreed his boss, "and many of the members are people we know are villains, but haven't been able to bring to book yet."

"But," he continued, "I don't think it is them. According to the Drugs squad, the quality is somewhat different. They think this supply is coming in from Eastern Europe. Theirs was from South America."

He broke off, picked up some papers from his desk and consulted them.

"However," he said, "It's not our concern at the moment. We have more important work to get on with. I want you two on a special stake-out."

Bodie groaned inwardly. Stake-outs were a pain. They were tedious and boring, and frequently didn't produce anything useful. But he knew better than to say what he was thinking, not to Cowley.

So he and Doyle accepted the briefing, and went off to keep watch on a certain house in Ealing. Taking photographs and trying to identify the various visitors to the house, kept them pretty busy all day.

When he joined his partner for a second day on the task, Bodie was already fed-up, and annoying his mate with his constant grumbling.

However, halfway through the morning, there was an interruption. Jax and another agent turned up and surprised them.

"We've come to take over," announced Jax, "and Cowley wants you two back in the office straight away."

"Do you know what for ?," asked Bodie pleased but curious.

"No, I don't," replied Jax. "Would you question the boss's orders ?."

They all knew better than that !

So Doyle and Bodie quickly put together their own stuff and departed, making good time back to base.

"Something must have come up suddenly," observed Bodie as he drove with his usual skill.

"I wonder what ?," agreed Doyle.

They were soon to find out. They parked the car and hurried up to their boss's office, tapped and entered.

"Something different for you," Cowley greeted them, and went on to explain.

"The 'boffins' of the Drug Squad have been making comparisons of the composition of the drugs they have encountered, and have found something rather surprising. This newest batch on the market matches completely to some that has appeared before."

He paused for effect, looking squarely at the two operatives before him. "They matched exactly," he announced, "some that came over from Europe several years ago, in a case that we handled."

Bodie and Doyle were surprised. C.I.5 usually handed drugs cases over to the Drug Squad as soon as they could.

Cowley went on. "It involved stuff being smuggled in hidden in sacks of animal food, and was based on an estate down near Dorking," he said.

Now the two remembered. Bodie turned to his friend. "That was that nasty lot," he said, "who dumped you in the woods. Do you remember ?."

"I should think I do," retorted Doyle, "I've still got a scar on my leg to remind me !"

( See Search and Rescue and the Waiting Game for details of this story)

"Yes, that's the case in question, confirmed Cowley. "Here's what I want you to do. Go to Records, find the file and have it copied. Check the 'recent releases' for the names on it, and get 'mug-shots' printed. Bring what you find back here to me." The pair shot off to start the task.

"Can you remember some of the names ?," asked Bodie. "I remember one called Simpson. I scared him into telling me where to find you."

"I recall Frank Kinsey," said Doyle. "A nasty piece of work. And after we'd jailed the gang, his big brother abducted you to get back at me."

"And we both ended up in the Thames, didn't we ?," recalled Bodie, with a grin. "Right ?."

Their task was quickly accomplished and they carried the results back to Cowley The names had been on the 'release list' just a few weeks ago. The pair had collected all the information they had on the whole gang.

"It looks as if it might be them starting up again," commented Bodie as they handed it over.

"It's possible," agreed Cowley, "But we'll let the Drugs Squad handle it. Parcel all this stuff up and take it over to them. Tell them it's a belated Christmas present," he added, with a wry grin at his own wit.

It was a short trip to the Drug Squads main base. They showed their I.D.s to the man on the door, who promptly admitted them and directed them to a nearby reception desk. The man behind it was on the phone, so they had to wait.

Doyle suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and swung round to confront a red-haired chap about his own age. His memory served him well. "Joe Granger !," he exclaimed.

The man facing him grinned widely. "Ray Doyle," he said, "I thought it was you."

Doyle quickly introduced Bodie, and explained. "Joe and I trained together," he said, "Goodness, how many years ago was that ?. But we have met a couple of times since, even served at the same station for a short while once."

"So you're one of the 'daring do' mob now, are you ?," said Joe teasingly. "I'm not surprised. I always thought you would do well."

The man on the desk put the phone down, and looked towards them. "Are you Bodie and Doyle ?," he asked, and they nodded, showing him their identification. He made a quick check.

"The chief will see you now," he said. "Joe, you can take them up."

So Doyle's friend quickly led them to the lifts (which seemed more efficient than theirs) and they shot up three floors. He led them along a corridor, and tapped on a door.

A brusque voice answered "Come in."

"Good luck," whispered Joe. "He's not in the best mood today."

However, as the pair entered, the grey-haired man who rose from behind his desk to greet them, was perfectly polite. "George Cowley phoned," he said, "and told me he'd sent you. He said you might have something of interest for me." He cleared a space on his desk for the folders they were carrying, and looked enquiringly towards them.

"It's all the information we could find," began Doyle, "on the case we were involved in."

"The one where the drugs you matched showed up," added Bodie.

"It was quite a while ago," continued Doyle, "but we checked the Recent Releases, and most of them were out fairly recently."

"Would they be stupid enough to start up again so quickly ?," queried the older man. "We'll have to find out, won't we ?"

"They're a nasty lot," said Bodie, "So if it is them, I hope you catch them pretty soon."

Having completed their task, they moved to leave, and the Chief escorted them to the door. Joe had been lurking in the corridor, and his boss spotted him.

"Granger," he called. "Escort our visitors out, please "

Joe had been hoping for the task, and led them down again, and out to their car.

"We must meet up for a drink soon," he said, "and catch up on old times."

He waved them off and they returned to base and reported to Cowley.

Having handed the case over to the right people, they immediately were embroiled in their own work, and didn't give it any more thought.

Until several weeks later !.

The pair had just got in from a busy morning of enquiries, and were hoping to grab a quick coffee, before they were sent out again.

A call came to the rest room from the man on the door. Doyle answered it.

"Doyle," said the doorman, "I've a man here at the door, wanting to speak to you."

"Have you got a name ?, asked Doyle.

"Yes," came the reply, "Joe Granger."

"Oh, he's O.K.," responded Doyle, "He's from the Drugs Squad. Send him up, Bill, and I'll meet him on the stairs."

Bill turned to the visitor. "You're in luck," he said, "they've not long come in. Go up the stairs and he'll meet you."

Doyle duly greeted his friend half-way up the stairs, and took him up to the rest room, where Bodie was busy spooning coffee into mugs, while waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Well, what's brought you here ?," asked Doyle as they settled down.

"I've been sent to bring you up to date on the drugs 'info' you passed on to us," said Joe. "It was very helpful."

He sipped his coffee for a moment. Then he set the mug down and began to explain.

"We checked the 'releases' first, and sure enough, all the names you'd given us had been released in the previous few weeks. So we set about to check them out. Simpson was easy. He was young and a first offender so he's been out a while. But he's not involved. He's turned over a new leaf, and gone to Devon to work on his uncle's farm."

"So he's out of the picture," commented Bodie.

"Gregor was the hardest to track down," went on Joe. "Eventually we found he'd got out of the country, with forged papers, and was somewhere in Europe. We got Interpol onto him, and had a real breakthrough there. They found him, and the source of the drugs. The silly lot had started up again, using the same method. But now they've been stopped after only one consignment."

"That was good work," said Doyle.

"Thanks to your help," replied Joe. "You put us straight onto them."

He grinned cheerfully at them. "But it's not all good news" he continued. "I've been sent to warn you ! The rest of the gang, led by Frank Kinsey, are all still in London and at liberty. We have talked to them, of course, but we haven't quite enough evidence to make an arrest yet. They had got rid of all the stuff they had received, so none of them were 'in possession'. We had a lot of pleasure in telling them that there would not be any more deliveries, though. They were considerably taken aback by that news. But then one of our juniors made the mistake of telling them that it was due to the help we'd got from C.I.5. Kinsey was as mad as hell about that, ranting and raving. He's making threats that he's going to get you two."

Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances.

"We warned them not to do anything stupid," went on Joe, "as we were still watching them, but Kinsey was so incensed I don't think he was listening. So you'd better look out."

"Well thank you for the warning," said Doyle. "As you probably read in the file, his older brother did have a go at me last time, and was killed by Cowley, so he already hated us, and now even more so."

Joe got up to go, and Doyle escorted him back down and out to his car.

Bodie dealt with the coffee cups. Then the thought came to him that they had better report to Cowley. He walked along the corridor, knocked on the door, and was called in. He found his boss reading a report in a blue folder. A moment or so later Doyle tapped on the door and joined them.

Cowley finished reading what was in the folder and handed it to them. As Bodie had guessed it contained the information Joe had given them, though in much greater detail. Cowley waited patiently until they had waded through it and handed it back. The last paragraph had been about Kinsey and his threats. He gave the agents before him a straight look.

"You have been warned," he said. "I trust you will heed this and take the appropriate precautions."

"We will, sir," said Bodie immediately.

They left the office thinking seriously about the problem. Both had received threats before, mainly angry idle ones that came to nothing.

But Kinsey was different. He was a malicious, vengeful man, determined to get back at those he blamed for his misfortunes. He was capable of anything, so his threats could not be ignored.

Their first act was to collect a 'tracker bug' each. This small instrument, if worn continually, would allow their colleagues to know exactly where they were at any time.

Their respective flats were checked by the security team, and new locks were fitted as a precaution. It was suggested to them that they chose different cars from the car pool, in order to be 'purposely unpredictable'.

Several days went by without incident, but they resisted allowing this to lull them into a false sense of security. Kinsey was devious, and anything could happen any day.

The attack when it did come, was swift and effective.

Bodie and Doyle had been out all evening on a fruitless search for a man wanted for involvement in a nasty raid on a small shop, where the Pakistani owner had been badly, possibly fatally hurt.

He was known to be a keen snooker player, so the C.I.5 pair had been going round all the snooker halls they could think of, trying to track him down. But in spite of all their efforts he hadn't been found, and they were now on their way back to base.

The home-going rush-hour was well over, but the streets were very busy with theatre-goers etc., intent on a good night out.

So Bodie was using his knowledge of the back streets of London to avoid the heaviest of the traffic. He was just going along a back street in a dingy commercial area, making towards a short one-way cut-through which would take him back onto the main road.

Doyle was peering into the mirror on the sun-screen flap. He had voiced a suspicion of a car two cars behind them, and was keeping a close eye on it.

Bodie suddenly let out a yell. He was only yards into the one-way street, and here was a big black car coming straight towards him at considerable speed.

He did the only thing he could do to avoid a head-on collision. He swung the wheel and took their car sharply left into the wide opening of a warehouse yard. He realised at once that he had been forced into a trap, as the black car swept in after him, followed by the one Doyle had been watching, and another, already in the yard, moved forward to effectively block him in. Men from all three cars jumped out and swarmed round them, wrenching open the doors and dragging the occupants out.

Doyle just had time to thumb a distress call on his radio-phone before it was wrenched from his hand, thrown to the ground and stamped on by heavy boots. Held fast by so many hands, they couldn't prevent their guns being frisked from them, and chucked out of reach.

Bodie, held by several hefty men, was being dragged across the yard to yet another car. He was resisting valiantly but that came to a sudden stop as one of the men used the butt of his gun to hit him hard on the head. He slumped limply in their hands.

"Put him in my car," ordered an authoritative voice, and there was Frank Kinsey, with a triumphant smile on his face. He took a few steps forward to confront Doyle, struggling with his captors.

"I'm going tp play the same game as my brother did," he said in a gloating tone. "Keeping you guessing about what's happening to your mate."

He moved a little closer. "You'd better wave 'good-bye' to him," he said with an evil grin. "Oh, you can't, can you ?."

Indeed, Doyle could do nothing. With one man on each arm, and a third with an arm round his throat, and a fistful of curly hair, he was helpless and could only watch as Bodie's limp form was bundled into the back of Kinsey's car.

"You won't meet again till you join him, dead or alive," snarled Kinsey. He turned to his men. "Have a bit of fun before you go," he said, "But nothing serious, mind. That's for me to decide when I'm ready."

He turned away, returned to his car, and drove away, with Bodie slumped in the back.

Doyle gazed despairingly after the departing car. Was this the last time he'd see his friend ? What could he do ?

He had little time to agonise over the situation, for Kinsey's men took him at his word, and had 'a bit of fun'. Half a dozen of them enjoyed themselves, pushing Doyle from 'pillar to post', with liberal punches and kicks. Doyle did his best to cope, but the weight of numbers was too much, and after a while the gang members left, leaving him lying unconscious on the concrete yard next to the car.

They'd hardly gone, when two more cars came cautiously into the yard. His call for help had been heard, and the 'tracker' had done its job, but the distance they had had to come, had made them just too late. But they quickly came to the aid of their fallen colleague. Murphy and two from the first car took charge of Doyle, while the other agent took on the task of ferrying Bodie's car back to base.

The second car took over the device for locating the 'tracker' and set off to try and pick up Bodie's trail, but they were a long way behind.

Murphy was having a struggle with Doyle, who had come round as they were on their way to the hospital, and was protesting volubly that he was all right, and didn't need to see a doctor. Murphy practically had to drag him into Casualty at St Richards, where he handed him over to Dr. Fenton.

Dr. Fenton was a good friend to several C.I.5 men. He calmed Doyle down, assuring him he would just have a quick check and wouldn't keep him if it wasn't necessary. Freed of the responsibility, Murphy hurried off to report to Cowley, re-telling all that Doyle had told him.

Early next morning, Cowley strode in through the hospital entrance. He was met by Dr. Fenton, whom he knew well. "Doyle ?," he enquired.

"He's still asleep," replied Fenton. Cowley looked at him askance. He wanted a proper report on his agent.

"Yes," said the doctor, "I'm afraid that's my fault. Murphy practically had to frog-march him in here. He was very uptight and declared he didn't need any assistance. He didn't want to stop. I gave him a couple of pain-killers, but I'd pulled a fast one on him, for one was a strong sedative. I persuaded him to lie down so I could do a quick check, and before he knew it, he was out cold. As a doctor I reckoned what he needed was a good night's rest, not traipsing about trying to do goodness knows what."

"You're a shrewd man, doctor," said Cowley.

"Well, my patient's well-being comes first," was the reply. "He'll be mad at me when he finds out," he added with a grin, "but I can handle that."

They reached the room where Doyle had been put.

"He's a bit battered and bruised," said the doctor, "but nothing serious, so I can discharge him as soon as he wakes, which shouldn't be long now."

Indeed as they moved towards the bed, Doyle was beginning to stir. His eyes flicked open, and he raised a hand to look at his watch. Surprised by what he saw, he sat up and looked again. Dr. Fenton moved quickly, grabbed a couple of spare pillows from the bedside chair, and put them behind him. He pushed his friend back against them.

"Don't rush to get up, Ray," he ordered. "Talk to your boss while I go and get your clothes," He scuttled out of the room quickly.

Cowley moved closer, and Doyle looked anxiously towards him. "Anything on Bodie yet, sir ?," he demanded.

"Not yet," replied Cowley tersely. "They followed the "tracker' for a while, but then it went dead. They're out with a stronger device, trying to pick it up again."

He gave his agent a calculating look, assessing the various fast- colouring bruises on the lean body. "I've read Murphy's report on what you told him," he said. "Now I want a full report from you."

"Yes, sir," replied Doyle, and went on to tell his boss exactly what had happened. "It was Kinsey, of course, but he seems to have collected quite a gang."

He had just finished when Dr. Fenton returned with his clothes and the necessary paper-work to discharge him. The doctor was relieved to see that his patient was very much back 'on duty'. He hoped that meant that he'd forgotten about his deception of him.

Cowley took Doyle back to base, and they went straight up to his office. He picked up a report that lay on his desk, read it through quickly, and handed it to Doyle. It said that the team had finally located the lost 'tracker'. But it had been found in a canal. They had called in divers, and were waiting for their report.

"That's a waste of effort," declared Doyle at once. "They won't find Bodie's body. Kinsey's not ready for that yet. He's going to taunt me about him for a while yet, like his brother did."

Cowley kept Doyle busy in the building for the rest of the day, doing some research for him in Records. They were both considering the off-chance of a phone-call. That was how contact was made in the previous case years before.

But although they waited for the rest of the day nothing happened.

"He's deliberately keeping me in suspense," declared Doyle.

He went home tired and frustrated. He found something in his fridge to fix himself a meal. He went to bed later and made himself rest and sleep because he knew he had to, to keep up his strength.

But he was not in the best of moods as he reported into base again the next morning. He went straight to Cowley's office, knowing that he would be told if there was any news. His boss waved a couple of sheets of paper at him.

"We've been given some help from the Drugs Squad," he announced. "You know they said they'd been keeping tabs on Kinsey and his lot. They've just reported that most of them seem to have disappeared from the addresses they had. Unfortunately they have no idea where they have gone."

"Kinsey's found some obscure hide-out somewhere," said Doyle, "and I bet that's where he's keeping Bodie." Cowley nodded in agreement. That did seem the likely answer. But where ? There was no clue yet to that.

"But the other useful thing they've sent," went on Cowley, "is a list of the registration numbers of all the cars they had seen at the various addresses they had."

"I registered a couple the other night," exclaimed Doyle, "in spite of all that was happening." He almost snatched the list from his boss's hand as he held it out to him. "Yes, there they are," he said excitedly, "and I think that one is Kinsey's," he added, pointing.

"We'll get urgent A.P.B.s out on them," said Cowley at once. "We don't know how far out they may have gone, so we'll make it as comprehensive as possible."

The next day Doyle was out with Murphy, making some straight-forward enquiries about a possible fraud that had to be stopped. They had done pretty well and returned to the car. Murphy was in the driver's seat, ready to move off.

Suddenly, Doyle's radio-phone 'beeped'. Thinking it might be their boss with further instructions, he answered it at once. To his surprise, there came a mocking voice.

"He wasn't in the canal was, he ?,"

"Kinsey !," exclaimed Doyle. "That's Bodie's phone."

"Yes, it is," agreed Kinsey. "I persuaded our mutual friend to show me how to use it."

Doyle didn't like the sound of that. Did 'persuaded' mean 'tortured' ?

But on second thoughts, he dismissed that idea. Bodie was too clever for that. He might have pretended reluctance for a little while to deceive the man, but he would know that Kinsey getting in contact with his mate was the only way forward. Apart from the fact that there were ways of tracking phones, he knew Doyle would demand to speak to him, and if that were arranged, he might be able to slip in a few words that would help Doyle find him.

"Is Bodie all right,?," demanded Doyle fiercely.

"Oh, he's all right at the moment," said Kinsey, "if a little lacking in comfort."

"I have to speak to him," declared Doyle.

Kinsey seemed a little taken aback by this vehement demand. "He's not here," he protested. "I've been doing some business in Brixton, but it's no use trying to trace me there, I'm not stopping."

"I won't do a thing you say," snapped Doyle, "unless you let me talk to him."

"I suppose I'll have to, then," grumbled Kinsey. There was silence as he thought for a moment. Then, speaking in a surly tone, he said "I'll call again in a few hours." The phone went dead.

Doyle and Murphy exchanged glances. At least something was starting to happen.

"Let's go and report to Cowley," said Murphy, as he started the car, and drove off. The pair hurried back to base and reported to their boss, who listened intently. You could almost see the thoughts churning round in his clever head as he assessed the situation.

"Doyle, "he said briskly, "you had better stay here for a while till that call comes through. Find some research or paper-work to do."

Although he tried to conceal it, he was as restless and frustrated as Doyle was, having to wait for Kinsey's uncertain response.

And they had to wait for quite a long time. !

Doyle had just walked into Cowley's office, bringing him some information that he had culled from Records, when his phone suddenly 'bleeped'. He pulled it out quickly and answered it, aware of Cowley's quick attention. It was the man on their switchboard.

"I've a caller," he said, "asking to be put through to you. Sounds like Bodie," he added.

"Connect us quickly," snapped Doyle, and the man re-acted with his usual skill.

"Bodie, are you all right ?," Doyle asked anxiously.

"Fine," came the reply, "But you are on your own again, like you were at the beginning."

There was the sound of a blow, and a scuffle, and then Kinsey's voice was on the line."That's long enough," he shouted, "Satisfied Doyle ?."

Then the line was cut.

Cowley scowled. He'd been trying to get a trace on the line, but he knew there hadn't been enough time.

He thrust a pen and some paper towards the faintly stunned-looking agent facing him. "Write down exactly what he said," he ordered, "Now, while it's still clear in your mind." Doyle grabbed the tools and did as he'd been told.

"Not that it's a lot of help," he muttered. "He didn't have time to say anything useful."

Reading what his man had written, Cowley was inclined to agree.

There seemed to be little point in hanging about any longer, so Doyle left and went back to his flat. He made himself a meal, had a shower, and went early to bed. But sleep was very reluctant to come. He kept going over in his mind what Bodie had said. Why couldn't he have come up with something more useful ?

He tossed and turned for ages but nothing came to mind to help him. He even got up once to make himself a warm drink, which was comforting but not effective.

At last, sheer fatigue made him doze uneasily. Then he woke with a start, as another thought came to him. Bodie would have known that he wouldn't be given long to say anything, so he would have thought carefully about what he would say. So the words he said must have been intended to mean something. But what ?

'On his own'. Well, that was fairly obvious. If one of a pair was missing, the one left was 'on his own', wasn't he ?

'Like in the beginning'. Beginning of what ? His career ? His relationship with Bodie ?

Suddenly a daunting thought struck him. Did 'beginning' mean the start of his involvement with Kinsey ? That went back a few years.

The more he thought about it, the stronger the idea grew. He'd got into trouble with the Kinsey gang because he'd gone in 'on his own', not expecting the reception he had met.

The enormity of what that implied worried him, and he sat upright in bed.

Kinsey and his lot had been foolish enough to try to start up again using the same methods as before. Suppose they'd also decided to use the same base, the big house on the Bristow Estate in Dorking ?

He knew he wouldn't be thanked for waking his boss with this extraordinary idea, but he resolved to get into work as early as possible to put it before him.

He was in early, but had to wait ten minutes for Cowley to arrive. Ten very anxious minutes, as he began to doubt his thoughts and the resulting conclusions. But he pulled himself together, thought of Bodie in peril, and out-lined his speculative idea to Cowley as forcefully as he could.

Cowley listened quietly to his agent's impassioned words. His first thought was to dismiss the idea as ludicrous. But he hesitated. It wasn't such a far-fetched idea, knowing the rather incompetent gang they were dealing with.

And how many times had Doyle's instincts proved to be right, and had brought results in un-expected ways.

Doyle watched his silent boss anxiously. He could see he was thinking seriously about the situation. "It is possible, isn't it ?," he queried anxiously.

Without answering, Cowley got up from his desk, and went to gaze out of the window. He was thinking furiously, using all his years of experience. He was as concerned as Doyle was to find his missing agent, and to re-unite his best team, but he knew they would have to proceed cautiously, for Kinsey was a devious and un-predictable enemy, who might do anything.

And his hardest task might be to prevent the agitated man before him from doing something precipitous.

At last he turned and came back to Doyle. "I'm giving it some serious thought," he said. "Meanwhile, I've a task for you. Murphy and Forbes are making enquiries into a firm we're concerned about. As their offices are in Bromley, they arranged to go straight there this morning. I want Murphy back for something else, but I don't want to halt the enquiries. They are important."

Ignoring Doyle's puzzled look, he continued. "I want you to go to the Computer Centre, pick up Sanford, he's good with figures. Take him down to Bromley to take over, and bring Murphy back here."

Doyle looked hesitant for a moment. He'd been hoping for some positive action on his idea. But orders were orders, and you didn't question Cowley's.

"Off you go," ordered Cowley, and keep in touch with base, just in case Kinsey makes contact again."

"I doubt it," said Doyle morosely. "He'll take pleasure in keeping us waiting."

He left reluctantly, and Cowley heaved a sigh of relief, He was being a bit devious too. He could easily have called Murphy back, but fetching him would keep Doyle busy for a while. And that was necessary, for there was a danger that Doyle would act impetuously out of a desire to find his mate, to get him safe. But Murphy, a friend to both Doyle and Bodie, was a steady man, and would prevent Doyle from doing anything foolish. Cowley would ring through and warn him to contrive to delay Doyle as much as possible.

Meanwhile he had some urgent enquiries of his own to make.

As he drove Murphy back into central London, Doyle expounded his idea, and eagerly awaited his friend's re-action.

"What did Cowley say," asked Murphy.

"Not much," admitted Doyle, ruefully, "He said he'd think about it, and then he sent me to fetch you."

"He could be planning something," suggested Murphy, "We'll be back in in ten minutes. Maybe we'll find out."

They reached the yard, parked the car and hurried up to Cowley's office. They knocked and were called in. Cowley waved them both to seats, which was unusual, and went back behind his desk. He came straight to the point in his customary direct manner.

"I've been making some enquiries about that estate," he began, taking it for granted that they knew what he was talking about. It was certain to be foremost in Doyle's thoughts, at least."It belongs to Lord Bristow, who has retired to live in the Bahamas, due to poor health. His agents have tried to persuade him to put it up for sale, as the place has stood empty for several years, and is rapidly losing value. But the old fellow is reluctant, as it has been in his family for generations. But now one of his grandsons is taking a course in Business Affairs and Estate Management, so he has high hopes that when he is qualified, he and his brother will take the place over, and gradually bring it back to be self-supporting again."

"So it is empty at the moment ?, asked Murphy thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Cowley, "deserted and rather run down."

"So….", began Doyle, but was quelled by an imperious hand, as Cowley addressed the other man.

"Murphy," he said, "you were part of the team that rescued Doyle, all those years ago, weren't you ?"

Murphy nodded, wondering where this was leading. Their boss evidently had something in mind and he quickly found out what it was.

"I want you, and someone else who was there, your choice, to mount a reconnaissance mission. Go in the back way, after dark, and through the woods till you are within sight of the house."

"To see if there are any signs of anyone being there," exclaimed Murphy, catching on quickly.

"Yes," confirmed Cowley. "But be very cautious, Essential you don't get caught ! Report straight back to me, if you see any indications."

"Why can't I go ?," demanded Doyle agitatedly.

"Because if the results were positive, you'd want to go charging in at once," said Cowley repressively. "If what they report confirms your idea, we will go in. But in force and with proper pre-planning."

"He's right," said Murphy, trying to calm his friend. "We need to do it right to ensure Bodie's safety." Murphy's sensible words calmed Doyle down, and he sank back in his chair.

Already planning his trip, the clever agent stood up to go. "I'll take Benson. He was there too," he said. "We'll collect some equipment, night-glasses etc. and then we'll be off. It will be dark by the time we get there."

Cowley nodded as Murphy left. All his men were competent and could rise to the occasion, but this one was steady and would take proper care.

He turned to the man still sitting there. "There is something you can do," he said, fishing some folded papers from his desk drawer. I know you were only in the house for a short while, but here are the plans of it. See what you can remember, and try to work out where Bodie might be kept if they are there."

If truth were known, Cowley was becoming more certain that Doyle's hunch could be right. It would explain why it took Kinsey, whose initial call was from Brixton, so long to set up getting Bodie to a phone, and why it was done on a land-line connection.

"Do it in the rest room," he ordered. "I have some phone calls to make."

Doyle spread the plans out on the table and looked at them carefully. As his boss had said, he hadn't seen much of the place, but he endeavoured to remember all he could. It was a large rectangular building, with the main entrance in the centre of the front façade. This led into a spacious foyer, with a grand staircase opposite, leading to the upper floors. He'd only been in the room on the right, a large lounge.

If Bodie was being kept here, where might he be ?.

Something Kinsey had said on his first contact returned to his mind. He had said that ' _Bodie was fine, if a little lacking in comfort'._ What did that mean ? Could it mean a cellar, cold and bare ? That was often a place to keep prisoners. He scanned the plan carefully. The house had been built on a slight slope, but there were cellars towards the back, under the kitchen and the utility rooms.

Cowley had been busy on the phone, assessing which men he had on stand-by, and mentally putting together teams for a raid.

Some while later he went along to see how Doyle was doing. Doyle quickly told him about Kinsey's remark.

"He could be in a cellar, don't you think, sir ?," he said eagerly, "and they are at the back of the house, not far from the door into the kitchen garden."

Cowley looked over his shoulder at the plan. "It's a possibility," he agreed.

Waiting to hear from Murphy, which seemed to be taking a long time, was rather trying for both of them. In actual fact it wasn't that late, when the call finally came through. Cowley called Doyle into the office, and put the call on 'audio', so that both could hear it.

Murphy, normally so controlled, sounded excited. "I think Doyle could be right," were his first words, "We went as far as the edge of the woods where we got the best view of the house. There are lights on downstairs, and also several rooms upstairs."

"That's not conclusive," interrupted Cowley, "Could be intruders or squatters."

"Please let me finish, sir," said Murphy. "We also saw four cars, parked in front of the house. With the 'night-vision' camera, we could see the number-plates. They are all on the list the Drugs Squad gave us, including Kinsey's."

"Now, surely that is conclusive !," exclaimed Doyle.

"Indeed," agreed Cowley, "Good work, Murphy."

"What now, sir ?," asked Murphy eagerly. He had forestalled the words Doyle had been about to utter. Both were delighted with the response.

"We mount a raid," said Cowley decisively. "I've already alerted those on stand-by, and there are three cars ready to move. I'll send Doyle with one to meet you on the back road, and Barton and I will bring the other two to the front gates. I'll contact you again as soon as we arrive, and we'll organise the timing of a concerted attack."

He rang off and turned to his listening agent. Doyle looked rather staggered, as indeed he was. Obviously his boss had believed in his instinct, and had been busy organising things, even before Murphy's call. And what was more he was actually coming himself on the mission !

The next few minutes were full of concentrated activity as C.I.5 swung into action. The men were assembled and assigned to the various vehicles. Arms and appropriate clothing were sorted out, and the necessary equipment loaded into the cars.

But very soon the cavalcade was on its way, speeding through the dark night, a mini-army going to do whatever was needed. It was now after midnight, so there was very little traffic on the road, and the three cars, with skilled drivers, made good speed.

As they got close to Dorking, and within range, Doyle called Murphy on the car-phone, and was given specific instructions which helped him break away from the others, and get onto the back road behind the estate. Before long, he spotted Murphy's car and pulled neatly in behind it.

Murphy greeted Doyle warmly. Both were elated by the thought of the action to come, and the strong hope of recovering Bodie, and dealing with this vicious, if slightly stupid, gang.

Soon the party, now numbering six, were moving through the woods towards the point where they could see the house. They reached this vantage point, and looked towards the building. As they had expected, there were no lights now. They could fairly safely assume that the inmates had all gone to bed. The cars were still there however, evidence that Kinsey and his gang were still in residence.

They left one man there as 'lookout, briefed to warn them if there was suddenly any sign of activity, such as lights coming on. The rest of the party back-tracked a bit, and then crossed over into the lesser woods that ran towards the back of the house. They moved swiftly through these, into the long-neglected kitchen garden, and up to the back door.

Doyle shone the narrow beam of his torch on the lock, a very simple basic one. Guessing that Cowley and his party must have reached the entrance gates by now, Doyle thumbed his radio-phone, and to his relief got an instant response.

"We're at the back door," he reported. "The lock is easy, and if there should be bolts on the inside, there are enough of us to deal with them. The door itself is pretty flimsy."

"Good," said Cowley. "We are at the front gates. No problem here, the padlock and chain have already been cut. We'll drive part way in, then park and continue on foot. When we are at the front door, I'll call you to check. Then on my signal we'll break in front and back simultaneously."

While he waited, Doyle found his skeleton keys and tried the lock. It yielded easily, but when he gently pressed against the door there was some resistance. "One bolt near the top, lads," he reported, "So a full charge when we get the signal."

They did not have long to wait. Cowley and his team had moved up quickly.

Only three words were needed.!

"Ready?," asked Cowley.

"Yes," replied Doyle.

"Go," ordered Cowley,

The old house suddenly echoed to loud crashes front and back. ! Quicker than it takes to tell, C.I.5 were in.

Cowley's team spread round the large foyer using only their torches. They purposely had not put on any lights. Darkness and surprise were their allies.

Doyle's smaller team were in too, into a narrow passage running along beside the large kitchen. Towards the end of it was the door to the cellar. The key was in the lock. Doyle opened the door and hurried down the steps, closely followed by Murphy. The others stayed on guard in the passage.

Doyle's torch revealed two doors, each with large keys hanging on hooks beside them. The first was only a storeroom with piled-up boxes and old furniture.

But the second was the one they were searching for.

Doyle turned the heavy key, and opened the door. The beam from his torch revealed a startled-looking man, starting to get up from a cold concrete floor. He dashed forward, and helped a dishevelled Bodie to his feet, almost hugging him in his eagerness.

Bodie clung to that helping hand perhaps a moment longer that was necessary. But a smile lit his rough-bearded face, as the torchlight revealed his two best friends.

"About time, mate," was his cheeky greeting, as they led him towards the door.

"Ungrateful sod," replied Doyle, in an amiable tone. "You should consider yourself honoured, mate. The boss himself has come to rescue you."

"Cowley's here ?," queried Bodie incredulously.

"Yes," said Murphy. "His lot came in the front door. We'd better go and see what's happening there."

Between them, they hustled Bodie up the stairs and further along the passage towards the front hall. It was still in darkness, but lights had come on upstairs, and there were shadowy figures behind the banisters of the wide landing either side of the top of the stairs. Several startled men had emerged from various rooms, revealed by the lights they had switched on.

An authoritative voice rang out. "C.I.5. Surrender now !," yelled Cowley.

There must have been a switch somewhere upstairs for suddenly the foyer lights came on, revealing the force of armed men waiting there.

It also revealed a wild figure at the top of the stairs, a pyjama-clad Kinsey !

But the sudden lights had shown him the three men who had just moved into the hall from the passage.

It was then he made his final and fatal mistake !

"Doyle," he yelled, and charged down the stairs, pointing the gun he held at the man he considered to blame for all his misfortunes.

Bodie, recovering fast, acted quickly, and shoved his friend sideways. Doyle lost his balance, cannoned into Murphy, and unprepared, both of them tumbled to the floor.

The bullets Kinsey had fired hurtled on to take a chips out of the wall beside the door.

He had missed, but C.I.5 men rarely did.! A volley of shots rang out. It would be difficult to specify whose bullet killed the man. He toppled over and rolled down the rest of the flight, dead long before he hit the bottom. Doyle and Murphy scrambled back to their feet, unhurt.

For a moment there was a deathly silence in the hall.

The C.I.5 men had moved into what cover they could find, expecting a retaliation of fire from upstairs. But it didn't come.

Instead there was a weak call of "Don't shoot," and a row of frightened men with their hands in the air. The sudden death of their dominant leader had demoralized the singularly inept gang Kinsey had gathered around him.

They were quickly taken into charge as a tide of C.I.5 men swept up the broad stairs. Doyle recognized a couple of them as ones who had 'rough-housed him, when they had taken Bodie.

Cowley went straight into organizing mode. He delegated two of his men to stay in the house until the doors could be repaired and the house secured. They could use up the rest of the food the gang had brought in as well.

Having collected the appropriate keys, he assigned four others to drive the gang's cars back to London.

This left plenty of room in the remaining vehicles for the subdued gang, permitted under surveillance to get dressed, to be taken back to be handed over to the police.

When all this had been arranged, he turned to Bodie and Doyle

"You need a bath and a shave, Bodie," he said sternly, gazing at his agent, looking considerably unlike his usual immaculate self. His gruff words hid the relief he was feeling at seeing his man alive and unhurt.

"And a decent meal," declared Bodie, "The catering here was considerably less than adequate !."

This brought a smile to the faces of those listening.

Typical Bodie !

Rescued from an unstable man who might have killed him at any moment, all he could think about was 'feeding his face'."

He joined Doyle and a couple of others for the drive back. He walked with them out to the back road where Doyle's car was.

Murphy had already collected his car, and taken it down to the house, to play his part in transporting some of the prisoners.

As Bodie climbed in beside his mate, now relieved and relaxed, he produced a packet of biscuits from a pocket. Craftily he'd managed a swift detour to the kitchen before they left.

But he did offer them round !


End file.
